love is potato chips.

Today I want to talk about love.

Poets and prophets have probably said it better,
but I suppose we are all entitled to our own thoughts on love.

I listen to people a lot.
Some that are going through heart break. Some that are questioning marriage/big commitments.
Some that are in that weird spot of going all in, or backing out.

What a heavy thing, love is. I suppose it also feels light as a feather, too.
We are not safe from it. Neither is your heart.
Love is not safe. You are taking a risk on a daily basis to be vulnerable. To hug. And kiss.
And also just…being there. Providing another person your ear to listen and heart to process it all.

I am sorry to say that you are not perfect in your love. There are days where you want to play video games and maybe fantasize about what life would be like given a perfect scenario. You will stress about money, still. Or whether kids are a good idea.

You should ask yourself these questions.

Is it worth the risk?
Perhaps. But this has all been said before. There are religions and movements based on the idea that love is greater than fear and death and darkness. It is true. To love is to suffer, to some extent. The world is an endless supply of questions, greater than the sum of its parts.

It is and was worth it.
For me, at least.

I think it’s worth it to love someone your whole life.
I think there’s too many of us not to.

Shirtless Man Laying in Giant Field of Grass

Real love feels safe. At least to me. Even when things break down, love is strong. Even when I feel angry and tired, my love is strong.
You’re still taking a risk, you see?
That is not dull. That is big and difficult. It is worthy of your time, to love another.

I once thought I could change the world. That is until I lived with another human being who required my everything. And so I gave it to her. I gave her all I could. In my heart, I wish I would have hugged more. Kissed more. Said more wonderful things, but let’s be honest, many days are spent just trying to feed one another and have a few laughs in between a short amount of time you actually get to be with each other.

But those things are important too. Laughter. Food. Ice Cream. Cuddles. Big fluffy Downton Abbey love.

And it’s having a someone there to process a life together. To filter. To digest.

There is no end to your love. I guess that’s what I feel. There are millions of others who have felt such distress and the feeling that all is lost. I realize my hurt is universal. But our pain is unique.

As well as our love.

Love is watching your partner fall asleep on the couch after a long day, imagining how you helped provide for them some safety. Maybe a plate of food, and some kisses.

Maybe a foot rub, or a back scratch.

Experiencing love made the absence of it terribly lonesome.
I think a lot about how much I miss hugs. How that proximity was good and probably did good things to my brain. I think about closeness and chemicals. How those things help us to bond. I enjoy my space, like most humans. But there is something to be said about having another presence close, who is safe and loves you. I believe, deep down, we were meant to have that.

Marriage is what happens when two people decide to spend their lives together, whether that is under God or a state or with their friends and family. Sometimes they’ll have a lot of food and dance and write thank you notes for all the gifts they were given.

And then you have trouble sleeping in the same bed.
Or being on weird schedules.
Who does the dishes is a big deal.

I can attest that loving another person is worth the risk of being damaged. Pain is what shapes us. Being happy smooths the edges, but real love, is accepting both and doing it day after day, regardless of what might happen tomorrow, or next year.

It is settling into a world where you have to work hard at loving each other well, but to also lay in the sun with potato chips and chocolate and to breathe in the same air.

I will always have that. Yes, deep deep down in my belly, I will think about all that love that still flows through me.

And maybe again someday, I’ll get to give it to another as intimately as I have before.

That…is how I know it is real.

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5 responses

  1. Great post & refreshing to read about from a man’s point of view. You write of love as someone who has lived it and given it well–it is not always perfect, or dreamy (though sometimes, it is just that), but more often it is made known in its endurance through the times that are just the opposite—so glad that you are able to honor love despite whatever you may be going through.

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